Persnickety In Pink
by FullMentalPanic
Summary: After everything that happened, he almost hadn't expected to see her again. He certainly hadn't expected to find that she had done what she said she wouldn't.


**Persnickety In Pink**

By FullMentalPanic

"YOU SOLD THE WAGON!"

Aerith winced. This was a far cry from how she had imagined a reunion with him. She didn't remember him being nearly this loud either.

"I can't believe you let it go after all that work I put into it!" He was so real. Striding down the aisle, half supporting, half dragging a limp blond haired man.

He was very hastily jumping to conclusions too. Just because he didn't immediately see the wagon, it shouldn't follow that she had sold it.

Although in this case it did.

"I still have the two other ones," she said defensively.

"_That _one was the coolest." he stated while he gently eased his companion onto one of the pews closest to the flowerbed.

Well, how was that for grateful? After what she spent that gil on too!

She'd felt guilty then as well.

"Is that..." she was unsure how to refer to the sagging and bedraggled blond he was keeping from slumping off the bench.

"Cloud," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Say hi to Aerith, Cloud."

"...nngh."

"Pretty good, your diction's really coming along." He was talking to the blond, but his eyes were still on her. Feeling like she was slow on the uptake, she stood up. She'd forgotten how tall he was. She would completely disappear if he was standing in front of her.

He had no right to look so insulted.

"The first wagon you made me broke."

"The wood was rotting before I put it together," he said like it was only short time ago. "I _made _you 'better ones'. Two of them."

Had he noticed the broken one was still here? Kept in a corner and periodically dusted off so it would be ready when he finally came back and could fix it? Maybe, although at the moment he was looking only at her.

As if she wasn't feeling flustered enough just having him back.

She clasped her hands tightly behind her back. She'd done that before, it wasn't anything that would indicate anxiousness.

"The cute one broke, too." It was here as well, waiting for him to put it together again.

He frowned, when was the last time she saw that expression? "I used premium materials on that, it shouldn't have worn out so quickly."

"I used it every day, and it happened after you'd been gone three years."

"...Right...So the last one was totally industrial grade. I'd give it an easy five to seven year warranty. Why didn't you use that one?"

"I did."

"Why aren't you still using it?"

"I got a better offer."

"So you sold it."

"He gave me 15,000 gil."

"You said you wouldn't."

The way he said it, like she'd broken a promise and he was asking her to understand something at the same time. If there was something he wanted her to understand, why didn't he say something? He had an intensely pleading expression, but he was silent. Was it hard for him to find words? It wasn't like it was easy for her. Although, apparently unlike him, this silence was making her incredibly antsy and if he wouldn't fill it with some kind of explanation, she would. She started right as he opened his mouth. Too late, it would be like trying to change direction in mid-air to stop now.

"Everyone likes the flowers." That wasn't really an explanation, but she was easing herself into it.

"Yeah, I heard."

"You got my letters!"

"Only number eighty-nine."

Oh, that one. "That was right before I sold the wagon."

"...Moving on?"

She didn't like the way his voice caught at the beginning of that, as if he was binding up a hurt, fortifying himself.

Not for defeat though, for battle.

He didn't have to. She was anxious to reassure him and irritated that she would have to, because she had thought that she was moving on, right up until the first thing she bought with the gil was the outfit she had on now.

"There were some things I had to get and...they cost a little more than I could afford normally."

"'Little luxuries'?"

That dash of sarcasm was unnecessary, and it pricked her into retaliation. "I suppose getting tired of wearing the same clothes for more than four years _was _a little silly."

"I can sympathize," he interjected.

"Zack, don't interrupt." Wow, it felt good to say his name again.

"...Sorry."

She smoothed her skirt and checked herself in pointing out what color it was. If he was so thickheaded he couldn't see it on his own he could just stay ignorant. He might not even remember anyway. "There were things I needed that weren't...necessary before."

"Like what?"

"Like a protector," she snapped, and noted with a spasm of conscience that the comment had a definite effect.

His face constricted and there was a shadow of dark fear on it. His hand clenched on the shoulder of the light haired man and there was a muffled sound of protest. He immediately let go, straightening the uniform fabric and patting the shoulder.

"Sorry, buddy." Looking back at Aerith he said, "I set up before I left - there should have been - "

"There were. Tseng would stop by and the Turks were probably watching more than I knew. Your friend who knows a lot but doesn't talk about himself that much came by, too, but - " _they're not you _"- they're not SOLDIERs."

"Kunsel is."

"They're not First Class." They didn't take the slums in general and Sector Five in particular under their wing the first time they met her. They didn't periodically wipe out monsters and disable crime like Don Corneo's smuggling and seedy organizations. They certainly didn't do it in that flashy and attention grabbing manner that made ne'er-do-wells keep their heads down and made everyone else see how things could be better.

They didn't leave for years on end. They didn't saunter back in mud stained uniforms riddled with -

"Are those bullet holes!"

"Where! On Cloud!" he whipped toward the man leaning limply on the bench.

"No! You!"

"Oh," he pounded a fist lightly against his chest. "Phoenix downs and curaga."

"I know you're fine now!" she said exasperatedly. Was he? Instead of just marveling that he was here she tried to take a detailed look at his actual state of health. Was there anything else wrong? "How did you get hurt in the first place?"

"I'm popular, people just didn't want me to leave."

"I suppose you couldn't have just talked things out?"

"Sometimes the more forceful arguments are the most effective."

"You solve all your problems with a sword."

"It's worked pretty well so far."

"Says the man with - there's blood on your shirt, too!"

"That's old, relatively. How do _you_ deal with insistent guys who won't take no for an answer?"

"With a stick!"

She whipped half of her skirt past one leg, the buttons were undone fairly high up so she could do this without fumbling.

He started and Cloud slipped sideways out of his support and he hurriedly grabbed him before the ill looking man could smash face first into the pew.

Aerith unclasped the weapon holstered high against her thigh and held it in front of herself triumphantly. "I've taken a hand in my own safety, and it was hardly cheap." Working the catches that let the guard stick extend to its full length she gave it a show-offish twirl and wasn't entirely pleased by the way his eyes were suddenly lit with amusement.

"You're right," he propped and adjusted Cloud against the back of the pew while he spoke. "That is completely different from a sword."

"It is, and I can handle it," she gave it a spinning flip that she had practiced in moments of boredom...and missing him.

He still looked more entertained than impressed.

A small corner of her realized that she was being a good deal more than ridiculous if she thought she could intimidate _him_ with a rod manufactured and purchased in the slums; most of her was annoyed that he didn't seem to realize it was perfectly valid for her to learn how to use a weapon. She took a few more steps toward him, leveling one end of the rod in his direction, and was more annoyed still when he didn't even flinch.

"It has a materia slot too. I bought some different kinds," she said with nonchalance, closing the distance between them further. She settled one end of the weapon on the floor and stationed a capable, self-reliant hand on her hip. He still wasn't looking as impressed as she wanted him to be and she was pretty sure he didn't actually get what she wanted him to. "I needed it. I didn't buy it on a whim."

She gave the guard stick another spin, trying to prove it was a worthwhile purchase and that she could use it appropriately. She wasn't paying much attention to direction, and it swung a little too close to where he stood.

Whoops -

* * *

><p>The end of the staff smacked into the hand he'd held up to keep from getting bopped on the head. Aerith had that anxiously defiant look he'd seen on her face sometimes when she thought she was facing something alone and didn't know he was there yet. He tightened his gloved fingers around the end of the staff and finally let a little of the smile that had been waiting years to show itself to her creep on his face.<p>

His palm stung. She wasn't all that precise with it yet, but she had a decent grasp on the mechanics of leverage and centripetal force that would be needed to wield a weapon like hers. All she needed was a little more personal instruction.

That and a little filling in.

"Cloud and I were prisoners slash scientific pincushions for about four years after Nibelheim. The rest of the time was trying to make it back here," he tugged at a blown out bit of fabric on his shirt that opened over one of the areas where his lungs had been punctured. "Shinra tried to stop us."

"...I'm sorry I sold the wagon. I know you liked it a lot."

"It was for a worthy cause," he slid his hand down so it rested right next to hers. Not actually touching, his gloves were embedded with more than a couple years worth of grime and he didn't want it to get on her. She remembered. That was what mattered. "After all, you look real good in pink."

* * *

><p>AN: I was originally going to go with "Pretty In Pink" for the title, but for petty reasons I decided that it didn't fit well with the titles of my other fics. Thinking on how Aerith reacts to the first wagon Zack makes and her demands for a better one, the title I ended up with seems appropriate. This was a good chance to write for Zack and Aerith, although I feel like I tweaked their characters a bit, both of whom will eventually play major roles in "Valentines". As of this point in the timeline, they're just twinkles in the eyes of their respective parents.


End file.
